


Sip

by Inventivetic



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inventivetic/pseuds/Inventivetic
Summary: The Princess and Vanessa run away from their own party (a oneshot).
Relationships: The Prince/Queen Vanessa (A Hat in Time)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Sip

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags!

They are running away.

The Prince looks over his shoulder, urgently shushing the woman who hangs onto his arm. She who had laughed when he laughs, grinned when he grinned, and the shared looks they swapped over the table had been too much. Their two silhouettes are pitch black in contrast with the village below, fairy lights, dancing, music so loud they can hear it even from over the horizon where the trees kneel and hide them.

The Prince vaults over a log, hugging the bottle close to his chest and his princess falls onto the ground and rolls a few inches, the leaves fluttering around her. He pulls her to him and she giggles again, shivering. He peers over the wood, and they are silent, listening.

“I can’t believe we ran from our _own_ party.” She whispers and pants, their faces and bodies only inches apart, separated by the bottle of alcohol between them.

“Don’t forget the wine!” He says, hides two pointed fangs behind a hand. She puts a hand on the one that is in his lap and they smile before they burst into laughter again. When he puts both hands to open the bottle, she shadows him, placing her hands onto his’. He grunts into the night as the hiss of air comes from the cap and he grins _wide._

“What are we going to drink with?” Vanessa asks, he can feel her pulse in her fingertips as his fingers go numb—it still hadn’t calmed from the running—he wills himself to stay still.

“Straight from the bottle. How else?” As soon as he takes the bottle from her, their hands fall to the forest floor on top of one another. He cranes his head back and tips the wine back. When he rights himself he gasps, rubs his mouth with his sleeve, and bangs his fist on his chest. Spluttering, he offers the bottle to her, “your turn.”

She hesitates, drumming her fingers against the neck. “Have you drank before?” She looks up at him with brown eyes.

“Of course,” He lies smoothly, winking at her. Never mind the twist in his gut that prompts him to add, “but if you haven’t, that’s totally okay—I don’t want to make it seem like I’d think less of you if—“

She tries to copy him, but it’s clear that she has not. She coughs it up, spitting onto the ground, her nose running, eyes burning. He laughs, taking the bottle from her. He catches her face flush red and her eyes narrow as he pulls away from her to brush her tears away. He finds his fingers linger on her cool face and she leans into it, closing her eyes, expectant. He says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” She says, licking her lips and taking a smaller sip this time, wincing— at the same time her eyes twinkle like she’s playing a joke he doesn’t get— “I don’t drink often. I’m not allowed to.”

“I see,” He says, taking another swig. She sees her eyes follow the lip of the bottle touch his, and it occurs to him that they are drinking from the same bottle. He feels his face go a little hot and he clears his face, “ahem… may I get a name?”

Her expression goes blank, her eyes go wide. A flower blossoming in reverse. “You don’t remember me.”

He leans closer to her, clutching his hand to his chest. “It’s not that I don’t remember you, it’s just… I meet a _lot_ of people. I-if you remind me, I’m sure I’ll recall…”

“It starts with a ‘V’.”

“Princess Vanessa.” He answers immediately and she gasps, claps her hands together in joy.

“I thought you’d actually forgotten!”

“No, never, you’re too beautiful to forget,” He said. Then paused, silently mortified, “oh, you’re the one I met when I’d forgotten my corset…I wonder what you thought of me?”

“I thought about if I’d get the chance to dance with you,” She answered, then she sighed, “I thought about what it would be like if you were my prince. How couldn’t I? You’re dark brown hair, your exotic, yellow eyes… I thought about what it would be like if you would decide to meet me again and again… You’d never cheat, you’d always move so gracefully and be so gentle… Oh, and I thought about how if you ever had children—how beautiful ours could be!”

He chuckled nervously, “On our first meeting?” It’s then that she grows silent and he feels something hot and uncomfortable press into it’s chest. “I-I mean, it’s important for a prince to be kind and poised and never stray! I’d never betray anyone like that and be presentable for his princess nor ever show a speck of flaw.”

She was still silent, pulling her hand into her lap, not looking to him.

“A-ah, Vanessa…” He said, “I’m sorry. I can… I’ve been told I can be very brash, speaking my mind when I shouldn’t. There’s no shame in admiring me and I’m very flattered.”

More silence.

“Please forgive my stupidity,” He muttered, lifting her chin with his hand. She looks up at him and like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day, she smiled and he felt relief course through him, “what?”

“I’ve… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh,” She giggled, “I’ve just never had anyone care about how I feel like you do. You actually try to make me feel better.” They talk more. There’s something oily and eel-like that squirms in his stomach as she talks. Her hands are very cold, and he figures that she’s aware that _his_ hands are cold.

At some point, while the world becomes fuzzy at the edges and he’s burned the _bad feeling_ out with alcohol, he stops playing dumb and just holds her hands for real. She takes sips every time he hands her the bottle. At some point, she breaks off the sip mid-way to laugh at him.

“You’re so drunk!” She says as he struggled to take off his long jacket to offer to her, “What are they going to say back home?”

“That I ‘need to always be perfect’, and that’s why they won’t know,” He tries to say in a joking way— but she winces like she’s heard a sour note. Vanessa sets the bottle down and he takes advantage of that. He takes another long drink when the bottle disappears, he lifts his hand to his chin to catch the dribble of liquid down his chin and burbles out a “ why—?”

“I…I think you’ve had enough,” She says, placing the bottle behind her. He looks down at her, their fingertips touching, “what will they do if they find out?”

He winces, then looks away. “Nothing.” He says.

“Well… Hopefully, your parents aren’t as bad as my mother,” A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but it’s sad, “…this isn’t my first time running away, by the by… there was a boy…”

“Aw,” On the outside, the Prince smiled, but on the inside, he was a little bit jealous.

“I snuck out and she—she locked me away for hours in the dark… it was a closet I think? I just remember it was— it smelled like—“ She gagged, turning away from him with her hand extended.

“That sounds awful!” And the words come out like a sob—and fuck. He’s crying a little. He wants to puke. He hates small spaces and he hates the dark.

“As you said, ‘I always need to be perfect’,” She mutters, holding the Prince’s hand to her face. She looks up expectantly and with the alcohol buzzing in his system… it all slips past his tongue: The laws he can't veto, the greedy business men who were _really_ in charge of Subcon, the expectations.

(The two look into each other’s eyes and he sees _absence_.)

"Hm, I always admire a man who can just… speak his mind. I never can…” His chest swells with pride.

_Pride,_ a voice says with venom in its voice, _hasn’t that anyways been your weakness?_

*

“I need to stand up,” He says, slurring. As he tries to get to his feet he stumbles into her and she catches him, steadies them both. He sits down again, “sorry, Ven! I’m such a mess, I’m sorry, I’m—“ That’s when her cold, cold lips press into her cheek it set his nerves on fire, nearly making him sober.

“Hah, what was that for?”

“Good luck on your way home,” She says glumly and when he says nothing, “I’m sorry! I can’t be caught with a prince, smelling of wine, coming from the woods… what would my mother say?”

It’s hard to catch everything she says, but he understands she has to go. “I— _hic_ —understand.” He says, leaning against the log, looking up at her clumsily. There’s a moment of… of silence that he’s too drunk to panic about, to fill, so they just consider each other for a couple of minutes.

“I’ll send a guard to escort you home, it won’t be longer than fifteen minutes,” She says, giving his a head a pat, her hands pulls away and he tries to pull it back and beg her to stay—already have forgotten his promise, “I promise I’ll be fast.”

He sits alone, growing drowsy as the forest whispers to him.

He’d always felt at home in the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comment and kudos would be appreciated ;)
> 
> If you're looking to give constructive criticism: How well did I foreshadow Vannessa's possessive/controlling tendencies? They were obvious in my head, but... 
> 
> What did you think about the characterization?
> 
> What did you think about the pacing?
> 
> But I really do have a fascination with Vanessa and the Prince's relationship... (also there is not enough drunk prince content. I must write it myself.)


End file.
